


Warmth in a Cold Spirit

by TheSnailQueen



Series: Towards the Rising Sun [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fire side talks, Fluff and Angst, Gift Giving, M/M, Mountain Wilderness, Mutual Pining, Other, Slow Build, Snow, Subtle flirting, and by subtle i mean blatant, hunting trips, lots of snow, possible Snowball fight, who knows - Freeform, will there be bears?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 02:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16823635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSnailQueen/pseuds/TheSnailQueen
Summary: When the others had returned a day later, a heavily injured John in tow, he’d had to choke down the lump in his throat at seeing them all safe, at the knowledge that the night before hadn’t been the last time he’d see Arthur’s smile.Charles reflects on how he ended up here and what this rag tag band of misfits, one rough and ready cowboy in particular, mean to him now.





	Warmth in a Cold Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> I'm !!! still in shock at the overwhelmingly positive response to [Sun Leads Me On](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16706677), but it's given me the confidence I needed to actually do this, so here it is, the beginning of that au I was talking about at the end of SLMO. I hope y'all enjoy it, and I would love any feedback you can give.
> 
> beta read by my wonderful darlin' of a friend [Kawaiibooker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiibooker). Thank you so much love.

It’s a funny thing, time. Days can feel as if they span years as months can pass in the blink of an eye. Charles is no stranger to this concept, having too much time or not enough, and his time with the van der Linde gang has been a particularly poignant example. He didn’t think, when he’d joined up with them for sheer convenience half a year back, that he’d have stayed this long. Since his father had been killed and he had killed those responsible he’d been on the run, had settled nowhere, valued nothing and let no one close enough for it to hurt when he inevitably lost it. And though he had always been a man with a deeply ingrained sense of morals, allowing himself to get attached had been taken off the cards completely.

That was until he'd accidentally stumbled into the gang and gotten to know Arthur Morgan. After that he found that that former conviction to remaining unattached was going to be severely challenged. He can’t pinpoint when he started caring, started giving a shit about this ragtag band that he’s accidentally fallen into, a family of sorts he supposes. But he thinks he can pinpoint who it started with. Upon first impressions, you could be forgiven for thinking that Arthur Morgan was a gruff, irate son of a bitch with plenty of brute strength but not much going on between his ears. That would be inherently and quite frankly insultingly false, though it was the persona he cultivated for himself and the one that Charles had initially bought into during his first weeks with the troupe. But the thing was, he could never keep it up and as Charles became more integrated with the crew he noticed little things about Arthur that perhaps those who weren’t paying attention past his rough exterior wouldn’t notice.

Not to put too fine a point on it, the man cared. He cared deeply about the people around him about the animals he trained both for himself and for the gang. The first time Charles had watched him break in a new colt he’d been ready to jump in, muscles tense as he expected it to go bad, but the gentleness with which Arthur approached and the inherent understanding he seemed to have of the animal meant he needn't have worried. It was just little things, like the presents he’d bring back for the little boy, Jack. The way he’d ruffle his hair and indulge the kids little whims whenever he had the chance, how he’d settle down with the girls and listen to their most recent plights and triumphs and encourage them to pursue whatever it was they were planning next with only a word of caution to stay safe. Never once had he seen Arthur treat anyone other than an equal unless they damn well deserved it. Charles watched all this, watched this man who adamantly denied that he was in any way good, care more than most anyone else he’d known and found himself beginning to care again too.

Then of course shit had hit the fan, just as Charles was beginning to make sense of the faint stirring of something deep in his chest every time he glanced over to see Arthur laughing with one of the girls or cooing at his horse as he brushed out her mane they had been up-heaved. A colossal fuck up on their latest job, he still wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, saw them all running for their lives from the Pinkerton agency, up into the mountains and quite possibly to their doom. They’d lost a few in the ensuing gunfight, and then more still on the getaway. He hadn’t known Jenny or Davey well, but he mourned them with the rest just the same.

It was truly a testament to what Charles thought of the man that when Arthur had come to him that night after they’d managed to find the little village in the mountains and squirrel away there to ask if he could borrow Taima, his beloved Boadicea still fresh in the ground, that Charles had agreed without any hesitation. That horse had been with him since they were both just barely finding their legs in the world, he would not trust anyone else with her so readily. Though he tried to play it off as nothing something of the significance of the action must have showed on his face as Arthur had given him a soft, reassuring smile and a pat on the shoulder, a low grumble of “I’ll take care of ‘er. You’ve my word on it” being his goodbye as he disappeared into the blizzard with Dutch to find Micah. He’d never admit it to anyone but Charles had counted every minute until their return, worry pooling in his gut that was undeniably not just for his horse.

They’d both made it back that time, Arthur greeting Charles with a grin and a wink as he handed over Taima’s reins, his newly split lip cracking under the strain of the smile. He’d watched as Dutch had explained what’d happened, the frightened young woman by his side whipping about and staring at them all in a way that reminded him of a cornered animal. He’d watched as Arthur had made sure to cover the young lady’s back, make sure she didn’t feel exposed as she made her way over to the other women, had murmured something to her softly that’d caused her to give him a strange, but oddly grateful look before she was whisked away.

He’d wanted to speak to Arthur more, though he wasn’t sure how and as he watched the other man get ushered away by Ms Grimshaw, his gait slow and laborious thanks to both the snow and the exhaustion, turn and give him another little smile and a wave he’d tried not to analyse too deeply the fluttering in his stomach and instead had bowed his head in return before moving away to his own bunk, the cold seeping into his bones and his injured hand throbbing even as sleep beckoned. That first night felt like hell to all of them, but only because they couldn’t have known of the horrors that awaited them.

So it’d gone like that, Charles made himself useful in camp once his hand was mostly healed, tended to the horses and worked on repairs with the other men to make the hell hole they’d wound up in a little more liveable. Working alongside them in a more hands on environment had given him a new perspective on a lot of his fellow gang members, and though he be loath to admit it out loud he supposed the comradery was nice.

He’d pushed down the worry when Arthur and Javier had disappeared into the blizzard to look for John despite the traitorous little voice in the back of his mind telling him that they were going to lose three more of their number to this accursed mountain and kept himself busy instead scrounging up supplies to make arrows, something he knew they were going to need if they had even a hope of surviving up here, as hunting was going to be imperative. And when the others had returned a day later, a heavily injured John in tow, he’d had to choke down the lump in his throat at seeing them all safe, at the knowledge that the night before hadn’t been the last time he’d see Arthur’s smile.

Later on that evening Arthur had come to sit beside him where he’d been settled by the fire working on the middle stages of a bow, the strong and sturdy birch wood carefully carved and glinting pale in the ample but dim light of the room. He’d said nothing, but the gentle brush of their shoulders had spoken plenty of the quiet comradery they always shared as Arthur shifted against him with a weary sigh, offering Charles that smile tinged with the bone deep weariness that came with being stuck in such abysmal weather. He found himself smiling back, even if just a little and the joy that lit in Arthur’s eyes at the simple response nearly took his breath away. Covering for himself he rolled his eyes and went back to concentrating on what he was doing, focusing perhaps more intently than he needed to as his fingers were well practised in their movements, performing a dance as familiar to him as breathing.

He couldn’t help but glance up through his lashes however when there came a rustling from beside him, the tell-tale soft _fwsh_ of paper sliding against paper as Arthur opened his journal, took out some charcoal from the little satchel that often seemed permanently glued to his side and began to draw. Whilst he didn’t want to overstep or encroach on Arthur’s privacy the temptation to peak was strong. Not many people got the chance to look in the journal that Arthur was always so fiercely protective of and the simple fact that he was willing to work on it right beside him was a significant gesture that was not lost on him. Still, he held himself back from nosing and continued to work on the bow. It was meant as a gift though it was admittedly going to be a necessity as well in the coming weeks given their lack of decent food. Stringing it carefully he hummed a tuneless, but pretty little song and found himself only partially surprised when a lower, gravlier hum joined in. Glancing up he met Arthur’s endlessly blue gaze without entirely meaning to, the man it seemed had been looking at him, or rather studying him for some time it seemed.

He arched an eyebrow and watched as Arthur blinked and ducked his head, abashed like a child who’d been caught stealing from the cookie jar and though the light was dim he could’ve sworn that Arthur was blushing. Convincing himself he must be seeing things he offered the other man a slight smile

“You okay, Arthur?” his tone is pitched low, unwilling to disturb the peace around them as he continued to put the finishing touches to the bow, watching his friend curiously.

“M’fine Charles, jus’ thinkin’” Arthur glanced back up at him with a crooked little grin and Charles once again found himself having to swallow down the little flutter of his pulse quickening before he could speak

“Hmm, and what’re you thinkin’ about Mr. Morgan?” he pressed gently, a hint of teasing in his tone that had Arthur chuckling “That we’re in a whole heap o’ trouble if we don’t start figurin’ out our next move. We’re gonna run out of food soon, with so many mouths t’ feed” Charles hummed thoughtfully, biting the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling as he silently decided now was as good a time as any.

“Well, I don’t know about a plan, that’s more Dutch’s thing. But I think I could help out with the food problem” at Arthur’s questioning gaze he lifted the bow that had been resting in his lap and held it out “I was going to do this tomorrow, but since you’re here now. This is for you” he held it out, waiting for Arthur to take it and trying not to smile at the awestruck look on his face.

“You - for me?” he seemed to struggle with the right words but eventually found his voice once more as he tentatively reached out and took the bow in his hands, examining it almost reverently “Charles this- this is really somethin’. You made this for me?” Charles rolled his eyes, nudging Arthur playfully with his shoulder

“Yes, you fool. Who else?” at that Arthur gave a huffing laugh “S’pose I deserved that” he ran his hands over the bow slowly, taking in every swirl and curve in the grain of the wood.

“So, this idea o’ yours?” he trailed off and looked up, a familiar playful light sparking in his eyes

“Hunting trip tomorrow?” Charles felt his own mouth split into a grin “Hunting trip. Figure if we manage to nab a couple of bucks, that should help with our food issue, at least for the time being” he shrugged, then before Arthur could speak “And you can’t go hunting with your rifle, damn things are too noisy, all you’ll end up doing is scaring everything off” there was a pause, and then Arthur chuckled softly

“Wasn’t gonna contest Charles, I trust ya’” he winked and Charles felt his heart stutter a little. He snorted softly, swaying with the motion as Arthur nudged him playfully “C’mon it’ll be fun, jus’ you n’ me out there” Charles rolled his eyes “Idiot” but his tone was laced with an affection that made Arthur smile.

“Alright then, so we leave at first light tomorrow yeah?” at Charles’ nod Arthur gets up, the soft rustle of fabric the only sound in the room for a moment other than the quiet breaths of their already sleeping compatriots

“Come wake me, probably easier than me wakin the lot o’ them fools you’re havin’ t’ bunk with” Charles couldn’t stop a soft bark of laughter at that, true enough he supposed, he didn’t need to deal with a load of irate cowboys so early in the morning

“Alright Arthur, I’ll come for you” he watched as Arthur shifted, slinging the bow carefully over his back then glancing over and opening his mouth to speak “Don’t worry about the arrows, I’ll have some for you in the morning” his presumption proved correct when the other man’s mouth closed with a soft snap and he offered a grin instead then after a second of hesitation he reached out to press a hand to Charles’ shoulder.

For a moment neither of them moved and all Charles could feel was the intense heat radiating from Arthur’s hand, the solid weight it was providing and his own heartbeat. Instinctively he leaned into it just a touch and it prompted Arthur to finally move, giving his shoulder a gentle pat and a final wink “Fair enough, g’night Charles. Sweet dreams” he rumbled, voice gruff with both trying to stay quiet and the obvious tiredness he was still suffering from.

Charles found himself giving a slow nod “Same to you Arthur” he paused, watched Arthur move towards the door and then, on impulse “Try not to oversleep, yeah? I’d hate to have t’ leave without you” the quip has the cowboy looking over his shoulder, mischief dancing in his eyes as he offered a salute

“I’ll try my best Mr. Smith. But I’m sure you’ll find a way to wake me if I do” and with that he stepped out into the bitterly cold night, making sure to close the door to the cabin behind him and leaving Charles to his own thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> It's half 3 in the morning so please forgive any bullshit spelling errors you may find. 
> 
> This story is technically in the same universe as [Sun Leads Me On](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16706677), but where that is a stand alone this is going to be part of a series. 
> 
> But hey I'm also open to doing more one shots, so if you have any prompts feel free to drop em my way if you'd like. 
> 
> [tumblr](https://zieglider.tumblr.com) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/TheGlacian)


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